The Guitar
by Mistress Sorcha
Summary: Dean's soul is broken from carrying the weight of deeds done in his darkest years in Hell...No peace or rest seems possible under it's weight...Sam can do nothing but watch it happen until he sees Dean, playing a guitar, at peace for once since his return


Dean and Sam were in for the long haul in this sleepy little one-horse town...their original case had stretched to multiple incidents and their research was getting them nowhere...Sam saw their dwindling supplies and started making a list of what they needed.

"Hey, Dean...I'm gonna grab some supplies, we're getting kind low on a few things...take a look at the list and let me know if you wanna add anything..." Sam said as he handed the list to his brother...Dean skimmed over the list, noticing Sam had already added food stuffs and, in a hesitant scrawl at the end,..."beer for Dean"...Dean closed his eyes for a second, deeply saddened at the three little words staring back at him from the page...

"Looks like you got it covered, little brother...I'm gonna run an errand or two as well, so you wanna meet up at that diner down the street later? Around 4 or so?" Dean said, handing the list back to Sam, studiously avoiding Sam's eyes...

"Sure Dean...4 o'clock...you got it." Sam said as he turned to grab his jacket and walked out the door...

Dean heard the door shut distantly...the thoughts thundering through his mind were louder by far...he closed his eyes and bowed his head...he could feel the disappointment, the sadness radiating from those three little words...his heart ached at the thought of Sam's disappointment...a lonely tear broke free and coursed silently down his cheek...he sat their, the dim silence in the room swallowing him, echoing his deepest fears back to him...the worst of them all was the thought of Sam being disgusted by him, hating him for what he'd done...

Dean made himself pull himself back together, he scrubbed his rough hand over his face, pulling his fingers through his rough, spiky, dark blond hair...he drew in a deep breath and wearily drug his aching body up from the edge of the bed...he drug his leather jacket from the chair back and made his way out the door...

Dean wandered down the road, stopping in a couple places to grab the stuff on his own list...the very last thing he needed was located in a pawn shop down the street...When he walked into the shop, he had every intention of grabbing what he needed and going back to the motel room to wait for Sam...that is until he saw it...it was slightly abused, worn with use...he picked it up as if it might break at his touch...he turned it over in his hands, marveling that the dark wood still held luster beneath the wear...as he sat on the bench near the store front window...he ran his fingers gently up the neck, and tucked the body close to him...He placed his fingers in position on the neck and let his other hand arch down the strings...his paused, frowning, reaching to adjust the tuning knobs slightly, then he tried it again... "Aahhh...that sounds right" he thought...he closed his eyes and let the music come from within in him as he lost himself in the sounds of the notes he strummed...

Sam was making his way back to the hotel, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of all the things that were crashing through his and Dean's life right now...He glanced up momentarily to get his bearings and caught sight of something that stopped him in dead in his tracks...There, in the window of a pawn shop, he saw his brother, his eyes closed, seemingly a million miles away...he was playing a guitar, his fingers deftly moving over the strings...For the first time since his return, he looked at peace....Sam's heart was pounding out a steady rhythm, each thud made all the more meaningful as hope crept in...hope for his brother...hope that he could heal, that he could be he man Sam knew he could be, that he could find his way again...Sam wanted to stand there forever…To see that peace on his brother's face always...but somehow, he felt like he was peering into Dean's most private thoughts. He decided to let his brother have his peace...Sam went back to the hotel and unloaded the supplies, a small smile gracing his lips...At 15 minutes til 4, he left and went to join his brother at the diner...they ate, spoke about their frustrations on the case, tried to think of what else they could do...neither disclosing the events from earlier in the day...When they finished their meal, they went back to the hotel. Sam set about researching away on his laptop, as always, while Dean set himself to lounging in front of the TV...

Sam watched his brother self-medicating with alcohol, drowning out the pain and torment that was always present in his mind...the sadness inside of Sam was choking him…killing him by inching…He would give anything to take that pain away…to take it on himself so his brother could find rest...He watched in sadness as Dean slipped into an alcohol-soaked sleep...

Sam couldn't sleep. He tossed fitfully as he thought of his brother's pain, of his lost and broken soul...Over and over, Sam's mind returned to the image of the peace he had seen in Dean that afternoon...

Sam was up early the next morning, having not slept all night...he left Dean in his slumber and went to complete a very special errand...

Dean awoke as the light crept in around the hotel's drawn curtains...he sat up wearily, scrubbing his hand over his face. He opened his eyes and glanced at the bed next to him...it was empty...he frowned..."Sam?" he said, his voice gruff from the alcohol he had consumed....no answer, just his question echoing back at him in the empty room...He stood, peering around the room, worry filling him...where the Hell was Sam, he wondered...It was then his eyes fell upon something laying at the end of his own bed...He moved toward it, his eyes not believing what he saw...Their it was, the wood lusteriously gleaming, the wear barely visible...It had been polished…Returned to it's rightful state...Dean bent and retrieved the guitar from the bed cover…Realization dawned in his mind and Dean knew...Sam had seen him...Had watched him as he played the guitar in the pawn shop...Tears welled in his eyes, glistening in the beaming shafts of sunlight penetrating the dank darkness of the room...

"Thank you Sam...." he whispered into the echoing silence of the empty room, thanking God as well for letting him have his little brother in his life....


End file.
